#Electrical Room Rubber Mat

[insulatingmats]

Use Electrical Insulation Room Rubber Safety Matting 1000v to ensure safety.

Use Electrical Insulation Room Rubber Safety Matting 1000v to safeguard your workspace. This sturdy matting provides excellent insulation and is perfect for averting electrical risks, guaranteeing safety in industrial environments. It is essential for any situation where electrical safety is a top concern, as it is certified for up to 1000 volts. Learn more about its advantages and how it can protect your staff and property.

[glossysoap]

ready to comply xi - парамнезия

парамнезия or paramnesia is defined as:

a condition or phenomenon involving distorted memory or confusions of fact and fantasy, such as confabulation or déjà vu.

warnings/tags: gore, hallucinations, blood, unhygienic (srry), smut for a small portion, angst.

notes: flashbacks are in italics, (…) indicates a pov shift, whereas (….) indicates a time skip.

prev chapters here!

word count: 2.5 - 3k

🏷️: @viylikescats @warenai @briacreations96 @fullmoon-94 @breadboyye @kiroshang @zvdvdlvr @digitalrosariesblog @itzzjxlyn @lonely-ofc @m0rganit3 @badbishsblog @wolfyland07 @angelsdemonsmonsters @unkn0wnd3ad @itstokyo-cos @c1rice @venusianlustt @bugonawall @wakusbonkus @shadowycreatormentality @blackrose4242 @blackgaladriel @lilpothoscuttings @thvxr @tapioca-marzipan @jinxxangel13 @luvmeijii @mp3seoul @atjamesbbarnes @h-leigh @writingmybeloved @chloeforde @divine--serenity @zittles3000 @thriving-n-jiving @mar-mar-mel @ivymarquis @crazy-phan-girl13 @goodsoup03 @schaarfyx @rhyanna6012 @abbiesxox @kenz-ee @whateverwhocares6 @sae1kie @thychuvaluswife @elichisstuff @kkaaaagt @grippingbeskar (rest of tags will be in a rb)

The moment you released your opponent from the chokehold, he gasped for air just like you did when you were dropped from his hold. His wheezing was sharp as it filled the room. His eyes were wide with shock as he immediately clutched his throat. You didn’t even notice when your lips quirked into a small grin, relishing in the fact that he felt even a fraction of the fear that you had.

Your eyes were trained on his figure as he scrambled away from you, watching his muscles twitch as he retreated. You watched him, stared at him even when your handler was walking up to you. Your eyes narrowed at your opponent, daring him to get back up.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when your handler cleared his throat. Your eyes darted to him. A chill ran down your spine, almost akin to the jolts of electricity that were sent throughout your body only minutes prior. Your smirk immediately fading from your lips as you remembered how he electrocuted you for any minuscule mistake.

Your body acted on instinct, an almost animalistic sense of survival. Your posture straightened and your breath hitched, heart pounding in your ears as you rose to your feet. Standing at attention and preparing to follow any orders or commands that he barked your way.

You were so prepared to be growled at or barked at. You watched his face, expecting his lips to pull into a snarl as he found something wrong with your sparring.

Instead, he kept looking at you while he turned his head, opening his mouth to speak to someone else. “Romanov, here. Now.” He snapped his fingers and pointed to the space next to you.

Your brows furrowed at the mention of another person. When you heard the sound of boots hitting the rubber mats, your eyes darted to the woman who was jogging over to the two of you.

Once your eyes landed on her, something clicked inside your mind. She was familiar.

She came to a stop next to him, crossing her arms in front of her as she waited for him to give her an order. Her eyes wandered to you, filled with an emotion you couldn’t name.

It wasn’t anger, which was strange after seeing it in everyone’s eyes for months. Was it regret? Remorse? Guilt?

Everything was so familiar about her. Her frame, her plump lips, her fiery red hair. The way she carried herself with such confidence and strength, like she knew she couldn’t be knocked down easily.

Every little detail of this woman pricked at the back of your brain with familiarity. But you couldn’t figure out why. You couldn’t place where you knew her from.

Was she a friend? A loved one? Or an enemy?

“Take Asset no. 09012020 to the showers. Make it quick.” Rumlow ordered, nodding towards the training room doors.

A shower? Your ears perked up and your eyes widened almost hopefully. During your entire time in captivity, you hadn’t been bathed or showered. Not while you were unconscious or being cut open on the table. You definitely weren’t ever granted the opportunity to shower on your own.

For eight whole weeks, you were sitting in your own sweat and filth and dried blood. Your hair was tangled and greasy, riddled with knots and buildup. You felt utterly disgusting. The thought of being allowed a shower was the one thing that brought you a shred of happiness and relief in this cold, dark place.

“Of course.” The Widow nodded before beckoning you to follow her. You didn’t miss a beat, staying on her heels as she walked towards the door. You felt many eyes on you as you followed her, burning a hole into your head with every step you took. Truthfully, many of them had been staring at you ever since you were able to tap out the Winter Soldier.

The two of you reached the exit door and two soldiers opened the doors. She stepped out first and beckoned for you once more.

You stayed hot on her heels as she walked down the cold hallway. With each step, her vibrant red hair swayed and her boots clicked against the floor. Again, you felt that itch in the back of your brain.

You knew that hair from somewhere. That bold shade of red, almost appearing dyed but not quite. It was too beautiful, almost perfect but also lived in.

With each sway of the crimson strands, images flashed across the forefront of your mind. Sounds accompanied those images, painting a picture of your own fractured memories.

Images appeared of the same fiery red hair being splayed across a white sheet on a gurney, accompanied by the sound of a woman sucking in a harsh breath of air through her teeth in a painful wince.

Images appeared of her hair whipping in the wind, flecks of snowflakes dusting the strands, accompanied by the sound of something metallic clinking. Then gurgling of something liquid, maybe someone coughing up blood? Your hand reached for the old, long healed wound on your abdomen, as if moved by some sort of muscle memory.

Images appeared of her hair soaking wet, the damp strands sticking to her forehead as the woman pulled you out of the water, accompanied by the sound of the wind blowing in your ears and her panting with each pull.

Images appeared of her red hair cascading down her shoulders, still dripping water as she watched you get dragged away and stuck in that torture chair.

Those images echoed in your mind in a continuous loop, flashes of color booming across your brain.

At the same time that your brain was flooded with images and colors and sounds, doubt and fear ran through your veins.

Was the Widow that woman?

Was she the same woman that pulled you out of the water? Or was it just your mind trying to piece together the fragments of your mind like a puzzle? Giving that woman her face and body because they shared the same hair color.

Was it just your brain associating that fiery red color in your memories with the woman in front of you? Was your mind just trying to fill in the blanks with what little information it had?

Were the images in your brain even real? Or was your brain so desperate to remember something, anything from your past life that it conjured up some fake memories in order to protect itself?

Before you knew it, you were pulled out of your thoughts by the Widow pushing open the door to the showers.

You were immediately hit with an onslaught of smells the moment you walked through the door. The most prominent was the strong scent of chemicals, similar to disinfectant and bleach. With every inhale through your nostrils, you were reminded of how familiar that smell was. You didn’t know why, you couldn’t place it in any specific memory or feeling. But it just felt.. right.

The other smell that stood in the background was less pleasant. Less clean or sterile.

It was the stench of blood. It reeked of ammonia and it had a metallic tinge. It was so bitter and potent, just a single whiff of it made you wrinkle your nose with a cringe. That smell was also familiar, just like the first scent. With every whiff of that pungent odor, images flashed behind your eyes. Images of the crimson liquid pouring from wounds, the sound of gurgling echoes through your mind.

Your eyes wandered as you took in the shower room.

The shower room was lit up by bright strips of white lights on the ceiling. The light illuminated the large white room, revealing at least thirty showers. Each shower was separated by a thin wall that only came up to waist level, boxing in each cubicle and providing a piss poor level of privacy. In each shower stall was a small porcelain shelf mounted to the tile wall, with just enough space for the bare minimum toiletries.

The walls and floors of the entire room were lined with white tile, and along the walls of the room were sinks and mirrors. The mirrors were cloudy with steam from previous showers, leaving your reflection muddled in the glass. The sinks were white porcelain with silver fixtures. The familiar shade of crimson flooded your vision as you saw blood spattered on the fixtures. The plasma stained the silver handles, from scraped palms and jagged cuts as fingers tried to turn the fixtures. That same blood that stained the silver had dripped down the porcelain sink, seeping into the silver drain. The crimson red was a harsh contrast against the clean, sterile white.

The rest of the sinks were splattered with blood just like that one, all evidence of past wounds and beatings suffered by other subjects and Widows.

The longer your eyes were trained on the blood stained sinks, the more your mind was flooded with images of that same vital liquid. You couldn’t place the origin of any of the images, let alone whether they were real memories or not.

But they sent chills down your spine regardless. You felt a pit settle at the bottom of your stomach regardless.

The images came and went from your mind like shreds and scraps. At the same time, your brain tried to piece the scraps together like a puzzle. A puzzle that was always missing one vital piece.

The images came in fragments. With each fragment, you flinched. Recoiled from the gory pictures.

…. gun shots rang out from Russian soldiers.

“No!” You could hear your own voice wail. It sounded alien. Nearly unrecognizable. As if it was spoken by someone trying to sound like you. Trying to imitate you.

Flinch.

You saw a horrific scene, taking place in your own cell. The cell you were kept in for weeks. Blood spattered on the walls and onto the floor as the bullets tore apart—

Flinch.

— bodies fell limp on the dirty floor, blood pooling around them. Everything was red. The guts and intestines that were spilling out of their stomachs. The chunks of flesh torn apart, falling from the bone.

Flinch.

A bearded man staring at you from the ground where his limp, lifeless body lay. Icy eyes wide as he stared at you, but not actually looking at you. Just glazed over, unseeing. Blood matting his brown hair, pouring from the head wound that left his brain matter exposed. Chunks of pink and white were scattered around his head, blood splattering the cement beneath him.

Flinch.

A man with darker skin than the first man was laid on his back. His brown eyes staring straight up at the ceiling, wide with shock and fear. Glazed over and unseeing, with his lash line shining from unshed tears. Mouth agape in a choked off scream, blood brimming along the seam of his plump lips.

You visibly recoiled at the next two images, even though you still didn’t recognize them.

Another man laid in a pool of his own blood and guts. Whatever skin that peeked out from his tan military gear was sun kissed, littered with scars and freckles. The brown specks and dots were drowned out by splatters of blood. Chunks and clumps of clotted blood had stuck to his arms and neck. His vest was soaked with blood, the tan fabric turned into an almost black. Blood pooled around him. His head was shaved on the sides and his hair was styled into a mohawk. His hair was dark brown, but it looked black with how much blood was caked in it. The strands were matted together with the plasma, and clumps of pink were clinging to his hair.

Brain matter.

The man’s face was just as bad. His face was all chiseled angles, but not harsh. Just sculpted. His tan skin was splattered with blood and brain matter, just like his neck and arms. His brows were bushy and furrowed in pain, framing his eyes.

His fucking eyes.

They were the same shade of blue that kept flashing across your brain, day in and day out. The exact same shade. No matter how many times you were hooked up to that machine and your brain was scraped of its memories — those eyes always came back.

Those eyes were looking right at you in this.. vision? Memory?

His cerulean eyes were shining with unshed tears, but void of any emotions as he stared at you. Blood trickled out from his lips at the corners, before his lips were pulled into a wolfish grin. His white teeth were stained just like the porcelain sinks, tainted with such a deep blood red that it almost appeared black.

“Bonnie,” an accented voice echoed in your mind before your eyes landed upon the last dead body.

Recoil.

The last man’s face was almost unidentifiable. It was so bloody and massacred that his face was more mangled flesh than actual facial features.

His hair looked like it could be blond, but it looked brown with how much blood it was soaked in. The strands stuck to his forehead as the blood dripped down from his hair, streaking down his face. His eyelashes were wet with the crimson liquid as it trickled over his eyelids. His eyes were rolled back into his skull. His mouth was open in a silent scream, blood trickling out of his mouth. His neck was torn apart, allowing you to see every muscle and tendon and even some bone.

On the bloodied concrete floor next to the dead man lay a skull shaped mask.

“Lovie.”

Recoil.

Though time seemed to stretch on endlessly in your mind, those images came and went in a matter of seconds. Anyone watching you would’ve just seen you flinch a few times. They would have no idea the torture you were forced to witness. The gore that would now be committed to your memory — until it was wiped again.

You were yanked out of your thoughts by the loud sound of the faucet turning on.

You sharply exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding as your eyes darted to where the noise came from.

The red head had walked over to one of the first showers in the room and turned the fixture, letting the water run from the faucet. The sound of the running water filled the large room, a welcome white noise to drown out the chaos inside your head.

You forced your legs to move, taking shaky steps toward the shower.

“I’ll give you some privacy.” The Widow murmured to you with a nod before walking to stand by the door.

You glanced at her to see that she was facing away from you. You crouched down to unlace your combat boots before stepping out of them. You peeled your socks off and stepped back onto the tile floor, wincing at the abrupt cold tile.

Then you moved on to take off your cargo pants, reaching to pull down the zipper. You pushed the fabric down your hips and past your thighs, until the pants were pooled around your ankles. You shivered a bit at the cold air hitting your bare skin.

The more you pushed the pants down, the more bruises and scars you revealed on your legs. Marks that served as a reminder of all the times you were knocked around. Tased, lashed, sliced. Evidence of all the wounds you couldn’t even remember receiving.

You swallowed and steeled yourself, stepping out of the pants and moving on to the shirt.

With a wince, you grabbed the bottom of your muscle shirt and pulled it over your head. Cringing at the smell of sweat and dirt, you pulled your arms out of the sleeves. You tossed the dirty shirt on top of the other dirty clothes before turning to your shower.

When you looked at the shower stall, you noticed that she had slipped in some toiletries for you to use. On the short wall of the stall, she had hung up a white washcloth for you to use to scrub your body. Placed on the small porcelain shelf were four small plastic bottles. They were clear, with no designs or branding labels on them. The only indicators you had of what bottle held which liquid, was small white rectangular stickers that were labeled as each product. Two bottles for hair care, one bottle for body wash and one bottle for body lotion.

She had also placed a wide tooth comb on that shelf, decent enough for you to detangle your hair with.

You had an inkling that the products belonged to her, instead of some random HYDRA soldier.

You pushed open the door to your shower with a creak before stepping into the shower stall. Picking up the comb, you began detangling your hair. You started at the ends, taking care to be gentle with each pull of the comb through your (curls/strands). You held your hair mid-way while you worked the comb through, ensuring that it doesn’t yank at your scalp.

You winced with each tug, feeling sharp tingling pain as you worked through each knot and tangle that had built up for weeks on end. Your hair was greasy from being unwashed for so long, but also crusted over in some parts because of so much dried up blood. When you ran into those areas, you had take extra time to break through those snarls and knots.

After many minutes of painstaking detangling, you had finally achieved a manageable state with your hair. You touched it, from the roots to the ends, determining that it was good enough for you to wash it.

You exhaled as you stepped under the stream of hot water, letting it soak through your hair. Closing your eyes and tilting your head back, you let the water drip from your forehead and down your face.

That’s how you spent a good few minutes. Just standing under the stream of water, letting it run over you. Savoring it.

Feeling it soak into your hair, deep in the roots and down to the ends. Feeling it trail down your neck and past your shoulders, trickling down your back.

You reached up and parted your hair, making sure every piece was saturated in water. You craned your neck forward, to the side, and then back again, to make sure water got behind your ears and your neck.

You reached down to the small shelf to pick up the first bottle, popping the cap open to squirt out some of the clear liquid into your palm.

You tried to ignore how strange it felt to squirt the liquid onto the metal hand. Your metal hand. It felt so alien to look at where your human hand was supposed to be, only for a chunk of metal to be in its place. It felt even worse to touch that metal hand with your other hand. It felt just like touching a gun. An inanimate object. A killing machine.

Which was technically true.

You shook your head, as if that could shake out the downward spiral taking place in your mind.

You forced yourself to move on. You brought your hand under the water before rubbing your hands together, starting to create a lather.

You spent the next ten minutes scrubbing at your scalp until it felt raw, massaging the shampoo thoroughly into your skin. You groaned in pleasure as your nails scratched your scalp, feeling a fraction of the tension in your body melting away.

Soon, you had finished washing your hair. You already felt so much cleaner now that your hair was free of the buildup of sweat, dirt and blood.

You moved on to scrubbing your body raw, cleaning off all the sweat and grime and dried blood that had caked on your skin.

With every scrape and scrub of the washcloth against your skin, you felt bruises and cuts and welts under the cloth. You cry out in pain when you hit particularly angry gashes but keep scrubbing.

Scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing.

Even as tears stream down your face.

You cried for everything you could remember and everything you couldn’t. You cried for every scar that hurt no matter how much you couldn’t remember how you received them. You cried for every scar that you did remember receiving — having to relive the trauma of those moments every time you put pressure on those bruises, every time your hand grazed a welted patched of skin.

You cried for your left arm. Even though you didn’t remember having it cut off, you still grieved for the warm, human flesh that used to be in its place. You cried for the numbness that was a constant in your metal limb.

You cried for the electric shocks that were running through your body not even an hour prior, used for forcing you into what your handler wanted. You could almost still feel the burning pain shocking your nerves, sending stabbing needles down your spine as you stood under the water.

You cried for the very few memories that came and went in your brain. Memories that you couldn’t place, memories that you weren’t sure even existed. You cried for the massacre of bodies that appeared whenever you closed your eyes. The pile of bloody bodies and spilled guts, shattered bones poking through skin and brain matter splattered against cement.

You cried for the two voices that you couldn’t place, the voices that echoed through your mind over and over. The voices that sounded so tender and loving and soft, the complete opposite of any voices you heard in this place. You would give anything for those voices to be real. To be in the presence of those voices.

You cried for the blue eyes you kept seeing. Those bright, cerulean eyes that were filled with more life and happiness than anything in this place.

You cried for the you that you didn’t know. The you that must have existed before you were the Asset. Before you were moulded into a killing machine.

(…)

At that exact moment, almost 2,000 miles away in the United Kingdom were Ghost and Soap. Simon and Johnny.

Enjoying the spacious, comfortable shower in your their shared quarters on base. Standing together under the stream of warm water, skin already scrubbed clean and hair already washed free of any dirt.

Panting echoed amongst the running water as hands wandered, lips roaming to kiss and bite on sensitive skin. Simon had already been working Johnny open around his fingers and his tongue, pulling moans and whines from the Scot’s mouth as he made sure he was slick and ready for his cock. Johnny was already nearing the edge by the time the other man pushed in. Simon was already pent up from being on a mission together, having to restrain himself from bending the other man over whenever he felt like it.

Johnny’s face is pressed against the tile wall as Simon’s arms caged him in, the Lieutenants’ chest pressed flush against his lovers back. Simon’s lips found their home on the span of Johnny’s neck, pressing tender kisses to the soft skin.

Johnny moans against the cold tile as Simon eases himself in deeper, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. With every inch the blond man pushed in, both men could feel warmth building in their stomachs. Johnny could feel himself stretch to accommodate Simon’s size, a slight sting accompanied by that familiar fullness.

Simon angled his hips and gave a sharp thrust, finally bottoming out and hitting that spongey spot that made Johnny cry out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Moans fell from Johnny’s lips, all drawn out and desperate.

“Yeah, I know,” Simon crooned into Johnny’s ear, nipping his earlobe. His mouth traveled back to bite at his neck, sucking marks into Johnny’s neck. With every suck, he moaned into Johnny’s skin. He could feel Johnny clench around his cock with every thrust, practically sucking him in.

He just needed feel Johnny clench around him a few more times, then he’d be nearing his own climax.

Simon shifted his weight on one arm, using his other hand to reach down and wrap around Johnny’s cock. Simon felt Johnny’s hips buck forward at the contact, but he only thrusted further into the shorter man.

Simon smirked against his skin at the sharp whine that fell from Johnny’s lips.

That only made him stroke further. Each stroke of the man’s cock spread his white juices up and down, covering his shaft and making wet noises echo.

Simon’s hand and his thrusts worked in tandem, perfectly in sync so he could work both him and Johnny to the edge. With each stroke and each thrust, Johnny would moan out Simon’s name. The Lieutenant would be groaning into the other man’s ear, all husky and gruff as he neared his own edge.

Soon, Simon would curse in Johnny’s ear and he would thrust in a broken rhythm as he let go inside of the other man. Johnny’s breath would hitch and his hips would buck as he squeezed around Simon’s cock. White ropes of thick cum would spurt from his cock as Simon fucked him through their releases.

While you were covered in scars and bruises and welts, and you had no memory of your past life, they were basking in their own pleasures.

While you were starving and fighting for food, they had full stomachs. While you received the bare minimum medical care, they received only the best.

While they were able to hold onto each other and feel loved, cared for — you were stuck.

Stuck feeling absolutely alone.

(….)

Two weeks had passed since your fight with the Winter Soldier. Two weeks since you made him tap on the floor of the training room.

Two weeks since you finally stopped holding back.

In those two weeks, you won again and again. Every single fight or spar ended with your opponent hitting their palm on the mat.

It was unspoken by anyone around you, even by other subjects. When you won a fight, you were allowed one shower and a meal.

If you lost? You would be stuck with just water and those same protein shakes, always just enough nutrients to keep your body running but never enough to stop your stomach from growling. You would have to sit in your sweat and grime until you won your next fight.

And if you didn’t win your next fight? Then the cycle would continue.

No showers or meals.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

[the-purity-pen]

Lights Out

Santiago Garcia x AFAB!Reader (no y/n)

rating: EXPLICIT (NO MINORS)

warnings: oral (afab receiving), fluff and feels (be warned)

words: 2.9k

a/n: this comes from a request from my lovely bestie @flightlessangelwings. it uh... well it got away from me a bit and therefore is a full fic. talk about coming back to tumblr fanfic writing with a vengence. sorry not sorry.

The storm outside was loud. So loud that every boom of thunder felt like it was shaking your entire house. You held your cat on your lap while on the couch, curled up with your favorite blanket, and the television turned on to the romance movie you had started earlier in the week. The plus side to working for the small town bar was that your boss, your best friend, didn’t force you to come in during storms.

The unexpected night off meant you got comfy in a large oversized t-shirt and soft cotton sleep shorts. Which was the call for the blanket as the temperature outside cooled down more than you were expecting. Your calico Ellie also helped keep you warm as she purred on your lap.

The lights flickered, but nothing else seemed affected, so you ignored it and returned to watching the movie. After months of built-up flirting, the male protagonist had just gotten the nerve to kiss the female protagonist. His hand on her chin made goosebumps rise along your skin. You were hopelessly romantic and loved all those movies and seeing the characters kiss for the first time. It was electric, and you always dreamed of having that for yourself.

The lights flickered three more times in rapid succession before everything went dark. Even though your heart rate elevated with anxiety, you managed a breath before muttering, “Damn it,” and getting up from your comfortable spot. Ellie gave a soft chirping meow to let you know that she didn’t like being moved, but she managed to get to the other end of the couch and curl back up to sleep. You shook your head at her before heading to the kitchen. In one of the drawers, you dug through the piles of receipts and take-out menus, rubber bands, and scotch tape until you found the little purple sparkly flashlight.

Just as you pull it out to turn it on, a loud knock at your door makes you jump—your heart races as you try to steady your breathing. You get the flashlight turned on just before you reach your front door. You peeked out the top window from your tiptoes just enough to see the top of a head covered in onyx-colored curls. You opened the door to find Santiago, your neighbor, soaked to the bone and panting.

“Santi,” you sighed as you lowered the flashlight and stepped back to allow him inside. His head is lowered as he steps in but remains on the indoor welcome mat, seemingly trying not to drip water all over your hardwood floor. You closed the door, rushed to the oven to grab the hand towel, and handed it to him. He offered a soft “thanks” while drying his face and arms.

“Well, I see you’re out of power too,” Santi mentions as he stands up straighter and looks around your living room with a soft chuckle, then back to you.

“Just lost it. Interrupted my movie too,” you offer with a soft laugh; turning off the flashlight as the moon glows from outside is enough to see Santi as you converse.

After an awkward silence, Santi hands the now-damp towel back to you, and you put it on the counter beside you.

“Didn’t know if you and Ellie needed anything,” he finally spoke after clearing his throat. His brows lifted as he looked at you. Even in the dark, there was no denying how handsome Santi was. Add in how wonderful of a neighbor he had been over the last year since you moved in, and he was pretty accurately the perfect man.

He had helped change the spark plugs in your car, repaired the front gutter, helped build your back deck, and replaced the upstairs bath’s faucet. All for free. He never asked for anything in return except for some free pastries when he’d stop by your bakery. You couldn’t say no. His sweet tooth was like no other, and for the rugged man he appeared to be, knowing he had a soft spot for your cupcakes and brownies made you just that little bit mushier.

“It’s fine. We’ve survived worse,” you commented, a wry laugh being pulled from you. The words and meanings were heavier than you intended them to be. Santi seemed to catch on as he stared after you, watching you move further into the kitchen.

“Did you want some water?” you offered as you reached into the cupboard for two glasses. The fridge, thankfully, still worked for a few minutes after a power outage. You knew it would eventually run out of the reserved energy to keep things cold, but at least you had the water jug in there.

“Sure,” Santi answered, wiping his feet before venturing toward you over at the sink. But as he waited, he did so very close to the side of the fridge. You turned after filling the first glass and bumped into him with your elbow, causing the cold water to splash onto you, eliciting a shriek.

“Oh! Shit, I’m so sorry,” Santi started apologizing and immediately grabbed the towel from the counter you had let him use. He started patting you down with it, but the dampness of the towel from his usage and the cold water already absorbing into your shirt caused you to shiver and shake your head. You set the glass on the counter by the fridge and mumbled to him that you were okay. He handed you the towel but stood dumbfounded as he watched you.

“Are you sure? Can I get you something else? Where are your other towels?” he asked rapidly before hurrying around the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets to find something else to dry you off.

“Santi,” you said with a laugh. “I’m good. Let me get changed. Help yourself to the water, though. I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared around the corner and down the hall. Stripping off the T-shirt once in your bedroom, you opened your wardrobe to find... nothing else in the comfort level to be worn. Your dirty laundry was still in the washer in the basement, and you hadn’t switched it over to the dryer before the storm. You mentally and physically facepalmed. “Great,” you muttered before closing the drawer and moving to your closet. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it would have to do.

Walking back out toward the kitchen, fiddling with the buttons on your ex’s dress shirt, you didn’t notice Santi had moved, and you ran head-first into his solid chest. “Whoa,” he laughed, his arms coming out to steady your shoulders. His hands were warm on your cold skin, even through the shirt's material.

You swallowed thickly as you looked up at him. The moment was fleeting, but it was there, and you swore you saw the sparkle in his deep brown eyes. But perhaps that was just the lights flickering back on. You heard all the machines in your kitchen turn on, and it must have cleared Santi’s mind because he, too, backed away and cleared his throat.

“Well, look at that,” he said and nodded slowly, looking around to see everything turn back on - including the television. The movie must have paused when the power went out because it picked right back up where it had left off. The two main characters were getting into their kissing, and the music was swelling, indicating which direction things were going in.

“Oh!” you shouted as the moans from the actors started to fill the room and romantic close-ups of their bodies began to show on the screen. You practically fumbled and ran from Santi to find the remote. The moaning and panting got louder, and you swore the remote was on the couch. You bent in strange ways, trying to see it, lifting the blanket from where it had crumpled, and felt your heart racing faster and faster with each passing moment.

Santi looked on, bemused, a smirk on his lips, taking a mental note of what kind of movies you enjoyed. Was it because he wanted to know you a bit better? Yes. Was it also because the noises from the tv sounded erotic and affected him? Also yes. And how you bent over at one certain angle, perhaps giving him the slightest hint of the bottom of your backside? Absolutely yes.

He walked over after you seemed to be failing at locating the remote. “Can I help?” he asked, standing closer to the tv, the actors getting into the steamy sex scene now. You could barely hear him over the thumping in your ears from your heart. Where the fuck did that little remote go, and why was there so much moaning on the television now?

You turned and saw Santi watching the tv as the sex scene played. It was rather raunchy for being a romance film, but it was steamy and sexy, and you swallowed thickly. You cleared your throat, staring at how Santi watched the scene play out.

“What movie is this?” he asked before facing you and noticing you staring at him.

Caught off guard, you stumbled through an answer. “Oh, uh, it’s just some romance movie based on a book series.” Vague, yes. Keep it vague.

Santi’s smirk took over, and your knees would buckle if it were a romance movie like the one on your screen. He was so ruggedly handsome, and you were brought back to just a few minutes before when his hands were on you. The feeling had this moment of staring at each other, turning you into a puddle. Especially as Santi moved away from the tv and toward you, his head cocked to one side, seemingly studying you.

“Do you like romance novels? And movies?”

There was no judgment, no mocking in his tone. He was genuinely asking. You quickly ran through the scenarios of what a yes answer and a denying no answer could look like. You opted for honesty. After all, other than your crush on him, your neighborly friendship with him had always been honest and straightforward.

You nodded as he moved closer and now stood directly before you. His nod was much slower than yours, thoughtful, and you noticed all of the stubble along his jaw. That hadn’t been there the last time you had seen him. But it suited him. His hand gently came up in front of your chest but paused, his eyes searching yours. Your gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips and back as your head gently nodded.

His rough, calloused hand ghosted in front of your chest and to your jawline. The contrast of the feel of his hand against your jaw and your skin caused both of you to take shuddering breaths in. “So you enjoy the idea of being kissed… softly?” Santi asked, his soft, graveling tone sending a shiver down your body.

Your heart felt like it had jumped into your throat, making words hard to come out. Instead, you nodded and breathed in, holding it. Your gaze on Santi was soft but begging him to move even closer. You had wanted to feel his kiss for so long, but you didn’t know that he even had an inkling of romantic feelings toward you.

“May I?”

The question surprised you. Santi didn’t seem the type to ask. You had seen him with women at the neighborhood picnics and gatherings. He always seemed so in control and cocky. The first time you officially introduced yourself to him, his smirk nearly made you hate him because he looked so full of himself.

But it was becoming more apparent that that was a facade, and with that, you nodded and mumbled a soft “please” in answer. His look was pure contentment as he leaned in, his hand sliding over to hold your chin and lifting it ever so slightly. He leaned in, his lips nearly at yours before he spoke, causing you to whimper.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for six months.”

You blinked and looked up at him. Your face did a slight double take, blinking harder.

“What?”

“I came over to help you fix more stuff because I had this ridiculous fantasy of coming over sometime and finding you half-dressed. I’d take you on the couch and devour you, tasting all of you. Like some romance movie,” he admitted, and your entire body became alight with lust. You couldn’t even stop your hands as they lifted to his fitted t-shirt and gripped the front of it, pulling him to you so that his lips had no choice but to land on yours.

The groans he let out let you know that you had done something right in taking the first move. His free hand slid down the side of your body to your hip, where his rough fingertips dug into your flesh, crumpling the shirt. You took a step back, tugging him with you until your knees buckled at the couch, and you both landed, Santi’s knee on the left side of you on the sofa.

Your hands moved up to his face, cupping his scruffed jaw. His lips chased yours, but you had other plans as you held his face and moved your lips along his cheek and to the soft spot behind his ear. Your tongue played against it, licking him before moving to his jugular. His hand on your chin slid down to cup your breast through the shirt, and you moaned, arching your back into his touch.

“Oh, that’s what you like, hm?” he breathed out, moving his face down to echo the licking and nibbling at your neck that you had just done to him. His smirk could be felt against your skin as you mewled in pleasure.

Hands moved all over; mouths continued to explore the upper parts of your bodies until they were reunited again in a heavier, hotter, more passionate kiss. Santi’s hand trailed down your body to between your legs, where he found your moist center. He groaned, his thumb pressing gently against the sensitive button that had your hips wildly thrusting toward him. His hand continued to move but in such a teasing manner that it was starting to frustrate you. Just having his body on yours was better than anything, but having his hand at your most needed part was already better than all your nights with your toys.

His mouth ventured down, suckling at your breast through the shirt, moistening it before moving down until he was on his knees on the floor in front of the couch and you. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing the oversized shirt out of his way. He leaned in, kissing up one thigh, then, when he barely reached your apex, his mouth moved to the other, starting the trail north.

“God, Santi, please,” you murmured, a mumble. Your brain was working on overdrive that this man would do this to live out the fantasy he had admitted to you.

His hands worked down your shorts and panties in one fell swoop. A master at undressing you already. Either that, or you were just that needy and desperate. He leaned in the moment he saw the glistening of your sex. His tongue swiping along your slit, bottom to top, your hands nestled into his curls.

“Santi.” You breathed out his name in pants and moans, and he was done for. His mouth closed over your warm cunt, lapping at you before stiffening his tongue and pressing into you. The curl of the muscle of his tongue pushing into you had your breath catching in your throat. His mouth was magic, and you were sure to come undone quickly.

But just as your peak nearly hit, your hips pressing up against his face, he pulled back, his hands pushing your hips back down. “Oh, baby. Not yet. I want to see you crumble and hear you scream, but I want to keep tastin’ you. I want to know that I’m making you shudder and shiver from pleasure. Okay?”

You whine, but if the last few minutes were any indication, Santi had no plans to leave the space between your legs soon. His tongue gently licked at you, to which you shuddered from sensitivity. His hands worked in slow circles on your thighs, and when his mouth wasn’t against you, his eyes were studying his fingers played gently against your clit, watching the way you would tense and clench around nothing.

And you were right. Three orgasms from his lips and mouth alone later, Santi finally comes up for air, his scruff glistening with your wetness. You reach out for him and pull his head up to you so that you can lean forward and capture his lips against yours. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue and in his mouth as you deepen the kiss.

When you broke the kiss, Santi leaned his forehead against yours to catch his breath. “I.. am not done with you,” he grinned as he kissed you chastely and pulled back. Showing you the wicked grin on his lips and the devilish glint in his dark eyes. You laughed and shook your head.

“You really shouldn’t wait six months to kiss me next time,” you quipped. His chuckle seemed to rumble deep into his chest.

“Oh, so you’re sassy too, huh?” he laughed as his hands gently tickled your sides before sliding one up to hold your chin again to you could look directly into his eyes.

“I’m never waiting to kiss you ever again. Ever,” he told you sternly, the laughter dying off as his lips retook yours in a soft, gentle, but firm kiss.

[shyficwriter]

This isn't really a fully formed idea but imagine being part of the Guardians of the Galaxy and having like lightning powers.

And like, when you get angry or frustrated an electrical charge builds up. Sometimes it's just static arcing through your hair. Other times you accidentally discharge the electricity into a metal table or something. Or you'll purposely reach out an grab onto a metal pole to make sure you don't discharge the lighting into whatever person is pissing you off (Rocket)

One day you discharge the lightning into a pole when you're pissed at Rocket and it looks like a transformer exploded. Rocket cockily asks "Was that meant to be intimidating?" and you answer, "No, that was to prevent me from electrocuting you when I kick your furry raccoon ass." *cue Rocket lunging for your throat and the others needing to break up the fight*

Also I imagine the following exchanges would happen: "Damn it! They've fried [electrical device] again!" --- "Sorry!" Or, "If you don't stop arcing my ship-!" --- "It was an accident!"

Because problem is you can't always control it, and once the charge builds up either you discharge it intentionally somewhere where you won't fry the electrical (or fry any of your friends) or it will just happen on it's own the next time you touch something- anything. Like static electricity shocks- but worse because it could either be a tiny tingle (if you're mildly frustrated or annoyed) or you could electrocute whoever comes in your path (if you're royally pissed).

Mantis has actually been forbidden from trying to use her powers on you after one time she attempted to see if you were angry and got blasted across the room when the electricity discharged (She was fine though, but you still felt real bad)

Obviously those who have metal implants are less than thrilled if they accidentally brush into you and you have a charge built up. (Nebula could have killed you the first time it happens, and Rocket legitimately tries when it happens to him- also his tail was singed for a week)

Eventually someone gets you a rubber mat to stand on to mitigate this, especially when the charge becomes too great. It's the only thing that allows you to discharge the electricity without electrocuting your surroundings. (Your rubber soled boots apparently weren't enough and you often get sentenced to go stand on your mat until you "cool down" when you're frustrated.)

It's not all bad though. Sometimes you get to see Drax's more playful side because the tiny shocks barely faze him- in fact they kinda tickle he claims. So sometimes you'll even sneak up behind him and give him a little shock just to make him laugh and every once in awhile he'll even chase after you if he's in the mood to be playful. Doesn't happen often, but it's still fun when it does- though he always catches you and gives you a playful noogie in retaliation.

It's also a real asset to the team. Lighting powers are super helpful with taking down big bad guys. You may have also even been convinced at least once to jump-start Peter's ship too lol

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

5. Smash into the door and shout: "Fuck, it hurts!"

KIM KITSURAGI - "What is this place?" The lieutenant stares at the dusty training equipment.

"It's an adventure!"

"It's the netherworld. Beyond the veil."

"Looks like a gym to me."

"No idea, Kim... but my head hurts... my head hurts *bad*."

"I think this may be the Artemitep's Boxing Club For Young Athletes."

KIM KITSURAGI - "We don't *have to* explore an abandoned gym, you know. Besides, no one's been here in ages..."

"I doubt the electricity still works... Good thing we have a flashlight on us. Don't forget to take it out of your bag before we move on."

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] - Some specks of dust shimmer in a faint beam of daylight falling from the window. Other than that, the room is dark.

INLAND EMPIRE [Trivial: Success] - An eerie feeling rises in your chest...

"What if there's a *reason* why no one's been here for ages..."

"Let's just keep going, I'm sure it's just a regular abandoned house, nothing mysterious here."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes, because it's *closed*..."

"No need to look for *supra-natural* explanations where a banal one will do. Now, let's move on, shall we?"

🔊 Wind, Creaking

Sand is dripping from a punchbag...

The poster says: "Citius* *Fortis*... The rest is worn off.

Smells like leather and sweat.

SHOT PUT BALL

A ball used for playing shotput. You feel like you should hold on to this and make good use of it. To sell such beautiful, old school sports equipment would be a sin.

Worn out wallbars. They look unsafe.

BARBELL - A barbell lies on the floor. The colour has worn off its weight plates.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Trivial: Success] - It's 60 kg. Your triceps hum at the sight of these weights. Show the world what kind of beast it's dealing with. Lift them.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Easy: Success] - There are no collars on the barbell. This is a safety hazard.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - Why does it feel so familiar?

Is this familiar because I'm a weightlifter?

"Look, Kim, it's a trap. There are no collars on the barbell."

[Physical Instrument - Legendary 14] Lift the barbell.

[Leave.]

INLAND EMPIRE - No, it's not that... It's the stale smell of rubber, the squeaky sound of sneakers, your bruised knee against the mat. And a whistle... then the feeling is gone.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - It's just a memory.

ENDURANCE [Easy: Success] - A memory from another life -- when you were young and fit.

2. "Look, Kim, it's a trap. There are no collars on the barbell."

KIM KITSURAGI - "You're right, the weights may fall off. Better not touch it then."

"What kind of a bastard would just remove the collars? It should be a felony."

"Actually, I don't really care about safety hazards."

KIM KITSURAGI - "It would be a violation of EPIS safety regulations if the gym was still operating. But it isn't. No one's supposed to come here anymore."

We're going to skip this check for now, partially because it's very low but mostly because I can't put two videos in one post.

4. [Leave.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "It's dark," the lieutenant states the obvious.

"And the flashlight works a lot better if you *hold it in your hand*."

"Fair point. Yes, totally obvious."

"Flashlights go *in* hand?" (Stare at your hand uncomprehendingly.)

"Got it, Kim, no need to rub it in." [Leave.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes," the lieutenant says. "You might even call it a *feature* of the universe, that you need to *hold* tools to *use* them."

"That makes so much sense."

"That makes no sense at all."

KIM KITSURAGI - "I'm sorry the fundamental laws of the universe don't seem to agree with you, detective, but the fact remains that it's too dark to see in here without the flashlight..."

"So come on. We've got work to do."

TUTORIAL AGENT - Some areas are inaccessible without your FLASHLIGHT. After you’ve acquired it, go to your INVENTORY and equip it in a HELD slot to continue exploring.

Ok, fine.

🎵Doomed Commercial Area

The hallway is blocked by old windowpanes and debris.

Looks like the remains of the "24th Window" Repair shop.

A large demijohn full of strange liquid...

Is it potable?

Wild animals stare at you in the dark, suffed and mounted.

Poor animals. No rest for their bodies after death.

Airship rotors covered in spider webs. They remind you of blades.

A naked mannequin torso. A strange yellow colour.

Blue velvet, soft to the touch. Moth-bitten.

Skis with "Slipstream" painted on the laminated top layer.

Steel rotor blades bearing a "Slipstream" logo.

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Looks like someone tried to *reconceptualize* their business here.

I don't get it.

[Discard the thought.]

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Look: The skis and rotor blades both bear the same "Slipstream" logo. It seems likely that they started out making one, failed to turn a profit, and then pivoted to producing the other.

But the question is -- which did they start with, and which did they pivot to?

What a strange leap of imagination... And yet they still failed. How sad. [Finish thought.]

That's just speculation. We don't know anything for sure. [Finish thought.]

CONCEPTUALIZATION - That's a good question.

What a strange leap of imagination... And yet they still failed. How sad. [Finish thought.]

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Reality is ruthless.

"PRODUCTION SCHEDULE" FILAMENT MEMORY

The cube-like crisscross of filaments feels oddly fragile in your hand, its intricate structure covered in dust. Silver tape on the side reads: PRODUCTION SCHEDULE. NOTE! This filament contains information that can be read using a radiocomputer.

Well, Soona wanted us to get a filament from a *fridge*, but maybe this is related?

Is this Emma's Atelier?

But where are the clothes it used to display?

Scribbled across a notebook: "Developers of the most advanced RPG in the universe."

PROJECT DREAD BOARD - Your flashlight slides over an old green chalkboard covered in scribbles, sketches and schemes like some ancient cave mural.

Some of the writing has faded with age, but you can still make out sections here and there; photos and drawings have been pinned to the board.

Inspect the drawings.

Inspect the photos.

Inspect the schedule.

Inspect the notes.

[Leave.]

PROJECT DREAD BOARD - These lithe, pointy-eared creatures appear to be different types of *welkins*. You make out autumnal *candle-welkins* casting wax-based magic...

*Translucent welkins* with organs shining under their skin, and even aether welkins -- hailing from the vast emptiness of sidereal space.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - Who are all those creatures? Fantasies of a tortured, feverish mind?

DRAMA [Medium: Success] - You should adopt one of those welkins as your *persona*. No longer a mere man -- but a welkin...

PROJECT DREAD BOARD - One of the welkins -- towering among the rest -- appears to be different, however.

Examine the welkin -- this is important.

I don't care -- step back.

PROJECT DREAD BOARD - It's Vaarahamira, a *high welkin* -- his face white and scarred like cracked marble. This is clearly a welkin supremacist. The note says: 'All non-welkin races will be purged.'

The huldur, the dweorg, the humans, and even headless men... all of them. Purged. Imagine a world filled *only* with welkin! Green welkin, dread welkin... and the high welkin to rule them all.

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant can't help but comment: "An inordinate amount of time has gone into drawing these little welkin creatures..."

"Why would anyone spend so much time on this?"

"Who *are* these creatures? Who drew them? Are they *real*? I have so many questions..."

(Whisper) "One of them is a welkin supremacist."

"Well. This has been educational -- let's move on from the welkins."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Some people really *like* building a world, I think. Even if it's just for a game."

Hm.

2. "Who *are* these creatures? Who drew them? Are they *real*? I have so many questions..."

KIM KITSURAGI - "This looks like *concept art* for a project. It's not really real."

3. (Whisper) "One of them is a welkin supremacist."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Mhm... political commentary. That one has a great beard too..." The lieutenant nods at the welkin's facial hair.

4. "Well. This has been educational -- let's move on from the welkins."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Just look at those details. So much effort..."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - ...and for what? All gone.

2. Inspect the photos.

PROJECT DREAD BOARD - The photo collage depicts barren, icy landscapes wrapped in perpetual night. You see permafrost and glacial landforms, dead trees groaning under the snow.

Entire oceans have been frozen from shore to shore. There are pictures of settlements on dried up riverbeds, abandoned in a storm. Animal corpses in the dark, carcasses and bones.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Easy: Success] - You see primitive oil rigs built into glaciers -- by *boreal dweorg* -- yurts under the snow, great mammoth-like beasts of burden...

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] - Albeit dark and cold, this vision also feels cosy in its own way. Like eggnog, or morphine! A much needed respite from our own world.

PROJECT DREAD BOARD - A pinned postcard reads: 'The heat death scenario -- a desperate fight for geothermal energy engulfs the world as Wirrâl becomes untethered from its sun, drifting through the Universe.'

3. Inspect the schedule.

PROJECT DREAD BOARD - This is a monthly calendar from the year '50. Cryptic words like 'sprint', 'daily minime', and 'GPI' span the marker-drawn grid -- the grand scheme of production and money.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] - It looks a bit like an academic calendar. Only much more *brutal*.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - Everyone is constantly teetering on the edge of the abyss. An abyss of *production*. These squares look orderly but beneath them is chaos, worry, pain...

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - 'Minime' stands for a 'mini-meeting'. It's part of a bigger framework for managing work called R.U.N.. Station 41 tried to implement it a few years ago, but failed.

Keep reading -- what happened?

Step back and look at something else.

PROJECT DREAD BOARD - As time goes on, the numbers in the boxes grow rarer and rarer. The board becomes an empty snowfield in the final days... Only failure and regret dwell in this region.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Looks like they didn't make it." The lieutenant looks at the frigid ice field of nothingness.

+5 XP

PROJECT DREAD BOARD - A note in the bottom left corner of the chalkboard says: "SEE THE PROD. SCHEDULE FILAMENT FOR DETAILS."

4. Inspect the notes.

PROJECT DREAD BOARD - The handwriting is only partly legible, but you can still make out three slogans: 'Call in, tune out!', 'WIRRÂL UNTETHERED', and 'Heat death of the Universe'...

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] - The full text reads: 'Heat death of the Universe is the new black'. Another note says: 'The biggest advancement in role-playing systems since the Thirties'.

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] - Outside, a cold wind wraps the building in its bosom. Snowflakes in the wind. An old woman passes what the locals call the Doomed Commercial Area. She tries hard not to look at the bookstore windows. It's *unwise*.

5. [Leave.]

FREQUENCY FIREPLACE - This old fireplace is covered in lines drawn in blue and red marker, the mesh spreading over the stone like blood vessels on alabaster skin. It looks ghostly and strangely ancient.

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - A diagram for summoning some time-forgotten being? The symbols seem very esoteric.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - The whole thing resembles Kedran mosaic tiles. Very Pisantic.

Hold on, how do I know what Kedran mosaic tiles are supposed to look like?

What am I looking at?

[Leave.]

CONCEPTUALIZATION - History classes. Students with their textbooks open, studying the roots of our civilization. Those aquarelle-blue tiles looked beautiful in the sun.

2. What am I looking at?

FREQUENCY FIREPLACE - Radio frequencies, it seems. UKV123.6, UKV123.7, UKV123.9... some written notes too. Sparse and cryptic.

Radio frequencies for what?

FREQUENCY FIREPLACE - Unclear. It looks like a cardiovascular system, split into veins and capillaries. Very advanced.

So we're dealing with something medical here?

This must be an elaborate piece of art.

Of course... (Narrow your eyes.) The anatomy of *the curse*.

+1 Art Cop

FREQUENCY FIREPLACE - You think so? The web is comprised of radio stations. All lead back to one red heart, titled: The Game Master Frequency. A note says: 'This one can listen in on any station it wants?!'

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] - Looks like a surveillance programme...

INTERFACING [Medium: Success] - They must have had *massive* airwidth. These things don't come cheap.

Wait, who's the Game Master?

If it's a game, then who's playing?

FREQUENCY FIREPLACE - Someone very important.

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] - The leader of a massive on-air game built by these people.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - A conductor for the hundreds of story threads that pass through the Game Master's Frequency.

If it's a game, then who's playing?

FREQUENCY FIREPLACE - Whoever decides to call in to a call-in station, it looks like.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] - A list of names under the stations suggests people across *six isolas* would be playing: Mundi, Insulinde, Katla, Graad, Samara, and even Iilmaraa.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - All of this gone, left unrealized.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - There's no way a little basement studio working *here* could pull anything like this off.

KIM KITSURAGI - "My god..." The lieutenant leans closer, his finger tracking the maddening rhizome. "It's as if the *less money* they had, the more ambitious their project became."

"Mhm. The cost of airwidth alone must have been huge."

"Why do you say that?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Exactly." He nods at the calendar on the chalkboard, wiping his marker-stained fingers clean against his jacket. "This schedule -- I know *doom* when I see it. The company was running out of funding."

+5 XP

What else? (Squint at the lines.)

FREQUENCY FIREPLACE - Nothing. It's just lines on marble, an echo from times long gone. No one has used the fireplace in ages.

MAINFRAME - A dusty radiocomputer sleeps on its wired frame, forgotten and unused. Its keyboard has a rectangular ON/OFF button; a piece of paper still hangs from the printer.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Another radiocomputer..." says the lieutenant, watching you circle around the machine. "Just sitting here without anyone in sight."

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] - What he means is that these things cost *money*. Why would anyone just leave it behind?

INTERFACING [Medium: Success] - This is the Rehm Civic radiocomputer, model RC5120, equipped with a Feld mainframe and a Rehm-compatible printer.

"Do you think I should turn it on?"

Turn on the machine.

[Step away.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "It's your call." He looks over his shoulder, then back at the machine. "You're in charge of this expedition, officer."

SAVOIR FAIRE [Medium: Success] - Of course you should turn it on -- don't you want to know what's on the filament?!

2. Turn on the machine.

MAINFRAME - The machine lights up like some prehistoric animal stirring from its slumber, revealing virescent PLAY and PRINT keys on the keyboard. The hatch on the machine's central compartment is wide open.

Look inside the compartment.

Press PLAY.

Press PRINT.

[Leave.]

MAINFRAME - It's empty like a beehive without its brood. Some cables have been left dangling, disconnected...

INTERFACING [Trivial: Success] - The filament you have would fit perfectly inside the compartment.

2. Insert THE PRODUCTION SCHEDULE.

MAINFRAME - Like a smooth drawer, the filament slides into place. On the keyboard, the PLAY key starts blinking.

+5 XP

3. Press PLAY.

MAINFRAME - The speaker comes to life, static seeps through the machine's planar magnetic driver. An old lady greets you, her voice sounds a hundred years old...

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Good morning, Fortress Accident on Rue de Saint-Ghislaine, this is East-Insulindian Repeater Station 1."

"Please repeat -- is this the production schedule?"

"Yvonne, it's me again! How are you?"

"Let's try the password for the production schedule."

"That's all for now." (Press OFF/SILENT.)

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Good, thank you." It's not clear whether she recognizes your voice. "Please repeat, is this the production schedule?"

2. "Let's try the password for the production schedule."

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Good. Please repeat the password."

Say: "After life -- death."

"A password? I'm really bad at passwords. Can you give me a hint?"

"Is it my birthday?"

"This is the police. Please open this thing."

"I don't know the password."

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Good, I've unlocked the production schedule. After ending the call, please press PRINT to access the filament."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Really? She just used the same password?" The lieutenant seems almost disappointed to discover that, as he murmurs: "Maybe those radiocomputer guys aren't that paranoid after all..."

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Fortress Accident, is there anything else I can do for you today?"

3. "That's all for now." (Press OFF/SILENT.)

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Thank you and good bye," the old lady's voice disappears along with the static.

MAINFRAME - Tiles on the cube are still smouldering, casting the framework in a soft glow. Virescent PLAY and PRINT keys shine on the keyboard.

4. Press PRINT.

MAINFRAME - With a quiet determination the printer starts printing, a piece of paper unfolding like a hand-held fan. A black criss-cross of letters covers its surface.

5. Read the printout.

MAINFRAME - It's a project report written by the lead producer Andrew 'Andy' Schott about 'Wirrâl Untethered', a radio game developed by studio Fortress Accident.

The first few pages give an overview of the capital and workforce, while the rest of it seems to be a production schedule.

Read about capital... I want to know about *money*.

Read about the workforce... Who worked there, how long?

Skim through the production schedule, whatever it is.

Tear off the printout and throw it away.

MAINFRAME - In its short time of existence, Fortress Accident SCA managed to burn through truly *insane* amounts of money.

The first tranche of seed financing brought in 150,000 reál, but then came the *delays*.

Eventually the damage reached 400,000 reál with only half of the game finished.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] - Four-hundred thousand reál?! Jommaijoo, these guys knew how to party!

Gosh, where did they get all this money?

MAINFRAME - Let's just say it was a *real adventure* for their Igaunijan investor.

2. Read about the workforce... Who worked there, how long?

MAINFRAME - Fortress Accident employed 18 people, the bulk of the team composed of writers and concept artists. There were also radio programmers, sound engineers, a CEO, two marketing experts...

…and a single overburdened producer who developed a habit of popping Pyrholidon in the basement to escape his obligations.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] - But on the other hand, their obligations *were* piling up at an inhuman rate -- a rate that could only be amended by Pyrholidon.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - Why did Fortress Accident have so many concept artists?

Wait, why did a *radio game* need so many artists?

I don't really care. (Look at the table of contents again.)

MAINFRAME - It didn't.

It didn't need so many concept artists?

MAINFRAME - No, definitely not. A few more producers could have come handy though -- especially when dealing with writers, some of whom routinely skipped work because of 'mental health issues' and extremely unprofessional sleep schedules...

One of them even managed to steal some valuable company property before skipping town for good.

3. Skim through the production schedule, whatever it is.

MAINFRAME - The production schedule depicts their glorious descent into bankruptcy.

Because of the concept artists?

Right, what happened?

MAINFRAME - No, not the concept artists. It wasn't even the writers, with their panic attacks and three-hour lunches...

It was impossible not to fail. The project was too large and no amount of money could satiate the ever-expanding ambitions of the development team.

They tried to make a 4,000,000 reál game with 400,000 in their bank account.

They thought they could bridge the gap with pure willpower and imagination.

They couldn't.

I could have bridged the gap.

Oh, so they were done in by their own ambition.

MAINFRAME - No. Even then success remained within an ever-narrowing margin of possibility that, despite everything, never entirely disappeared...

That is, until they discovered the Valley of the Heads.

The what?

That sounds bad.

MAINFRAME - No, it was good. Too good.

At the eleventh hour, the lead designer, Zsiemsk-born Sulis��aw Zawisza, decided that what 'Wirrâl Untethered' needed was a secret mystical location at the extreme edge of the map...

This place was to be the *Valley of the Heads* -- where the heads of all the *headless* constructs could be found. The player would have been able to choose a head for their headless party member, and each head would been voiced on-air by a professional actor.

This is some insane shit. Who were these people?

How many heads were there?

MAINFRAME - The world had never seen their kind before and might never again.

How many heads were there?

MAINFRAME - So many. At last count there were approximately 10,000 heads for 10,000 headless men, all of which could be endlessly recombined.

How many combinations could you make out of that?

That's pretty bad. So that's what did them in?

MAINFRAME - Do you really want to know? There seems to be a calculation here, but it may take a while...

Yeah, how bad could it be?

No, let's not go there.

🔊 Static

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Keep going.

Uh oh.

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KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant taps his foot impatiently, his arms folded tight against his chest.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] - He's dying for a cigarette. Come to think of it, you are, too.

MAINFRAME - 778130390574620824491719213118641296337046614064569001789423567387755231309527859127745332418554424844844936642107313488191806401892223173021566458134731864499979057816620914698707180393888857812807402263636022941143548698714021435720559477308928086536789202019351026053615679244832767494761178583160718657103108422005602595451151913913091195444478443610327418761023388433916875892334237908598419682665256106287512375723184914749519459857288979349817917618226524804082371281097907726388642860679170822885758527034708397145616199262478447946927949968459456323827022973641735034307831941156982478200132908512028784748058601889600459017459740556307327144876790852888679788099706952406810066256114400149834135808897372468440649488570741676879164132242053736540673301863924979109154747859591638655975070905811759248995022147992509456355825143158144640601342834904227983579396592589852007638456466816407326819283460077672858762849000688745646392749644159040340336723378144915970329417872941550610541295154001593938516639293256774295575494800466582735796539909402335436446493768272725418736275475329768081903253361410864330842377717389952215367630953020459024386946327028952939944830135775890812148845584938198745059209140672095224690962630769417533409836988593637003149737289779963600186265001749292900879311899978229637123066422979961635825726001122889836476514180459757700421208339493646596473364642890444993253962270919073737057720513228159578632275919127860542978629531886155598047281607108641328035854001600555756868557917859778991979026565926212830072253514015259735693007290153922111168685047404021721744420517380002513610004945341193243316683442431259630988123969622023588583955878316851948331266535773532443799356832152691770422490345745348589138125826813669089294768090526355606381196613060639369384118177135459298843172329122362624588683942028899816935611698654298847765131182276625267399788088160104706515423350156713537448170862343146625311902910401522629271040992850724188433290072777947541116375521765635893163266360493812184018375128188847711689754794837676640848427536230740195421832179854962606665903479258163423926709478399070629231665350372850197513248138038370708946389254708870390857235810061306286466647100061043521157789266134322146553114118825969429262845221090266884149757633415549211355812546165580782734701158140060083457621331303899878432706537199567095708473857860926491888583787392391655542635773012922436416040625517368923356365688543658516462078218757417243645258141434876327613417527073767549222762877822647651543153415857137735227303354033763642042580342572647496862178236669513534106773784211313711319873732228918052750628122777164124944124012071259543199917465747458925826137128255555350804041439445572959945546356084872513394629363589408320989648016195831304297209647941285393889962653689282638076771687595885022164645824309401650096887973661577335603168367103868952282709415095452227440027354992536702147159940565448138421863801287999008209335763207363694059914242637182940006137419005795130962985453307481978025683010896728738022348204888629731303696898826406579047815623897784853650256910642317957360253309087632717849111897484322468680863403839641761276057886465744722848249326874430625512205069551684646694771836819114328735448158363505481464110999601433905957997662906468812950250391509236330110760706328633173933781496933802475800350527897827557509286040394205063429393270646361610318228792481526793068627492372756318522256542660085568494977202859091509304954259674736483314372363495554489015986684083621769135596560395196704253688634823695871294625247590317768131849775882765767404825581365021036495855057032592199576753342642237837235860585094035839771034766706447886408311096503025652156074640196527169997323734652371734565955145594930981666440062115993491331801351505286518421788280263433259347558507611686977091255800561856837105408560812495194031480646187194025776632852670196983875675615246967590281068648968692933159543520976875271372016161609311742501997092896849400346962423256884106651133043774122561

Keep going.

What have I done?

MAINFRAME - 762586589412367281711455264238945126317178347902769211714528873529550193367592189080060486337377867281806102547825704367884495035189257874998366947859086129755430841226770609543476121337174331567837901620123372370233383164147064285921859776101582327219979150628718681867509816655377450130208803339043536397702633638090985264945326281465580655465048234864294953906132574004969128883405182229336444766838550379679758096199835758070277595359687882261946596122230445492756002749551685835425822953360428344263184780688253954507466918778977654060384325128438128113168562046086172894082296586261744207669202974279300881295198546787135486232366104132165812792671515459615943525934567574459923078892055195400823164097195912500254552375031067356397488355424804496813830306718519314913357892021236053081999520205845034234999321509626349778124566583046805818245635248146258493319261954068848184464452484294860630161694766632426252314763223711096953694838244823164103962245076754056142874682678357237048956069906527926884558445120466548533785340266466450423396384882577198749536113004942155937355452119261867214782654168856040949282900566168838076376566905107408925105491652229688786769686316525149177014999000666373445461202627807019256987062255409289451947187780043061300218282874258670487484808269485734447782440787341027108248702695238308049109604820139012940246312448001593366702126583176778797529659634725768943265404358892672939506878608306262662632873920873273025479100999321133889778078143367287914487683736864677485287777374035474728716442177678207129645062708809786379281440711925051411480049070556080972292997924414710628522470298706998692276763417735132586029089038757074543680778764223853337006920896163510092335873039865439060718809525575533803647258950073067721225280781794710564811713785574510576910443229254290241494335883960936793213616969542512997310310328044369545019298438208423831212658257405945094269427773071248021769157818357200871705387732560179871330055059113778238417916402808414096238208476373930139307784285545452223675598246662506087542848761041456613622276424059143044555808563181809352304077938916149021162924005150749140684432032303656099548786209991943065644553325471355573653185160117003215506907877167520628815278858971494103209869840830489665243510305024446799317791476591034289491290541203616016956712221408063694059403045521862128799330928562310224184463652890974446401519866231838819624448225907835859140436861930190414589626938789070349821698686969344480862139905345917928266543047982072196341347556465254831437711566784590777971965107724680002935815462676463102242790073136313525220670629511259358744731341864924972827847966445854489629329052620580652485887070208793891344760833446531709392424082493280089157313195413483118209277524868805487339433158675626661221793550511906099929113794456349956273918984590290217131557060962678816733029401984642373904450980280309489759812592520558509735374365568257803136819020071516756938272818188245875417107211808065564480391225045370894226953583821925350756928340956398592655997403913167092900439962759768303752175033608790282956730688622630777297335338536826687345190357097096873223237383004940901232392743187590465263270951784062672648288936468965932191695211063617297570743761480616013311049116922713186094041450148428664236347169828924181804843652305388645598098392738364906854808230142678031439374404318078226787794940062064891512489525165430056344483750467517542070433133724868706332375616452323604819320243775968909147833721795536769926032357151855133910984027390637532807023133017557542693962026294239109453235379101259489649418125636729929670842506675998034562734555985596285122814145825560248417833056452405084500659887559875186013358606249327844877720068422965919455165395629829605916100465789072148420548618304181756045598151680880317830802614459944446779180124321464009836106786834129748725967292587868062230801158220262890143644590023016458236667092655712645599257906223047452356255751117707915120027893809757754685461210173075227992414070263081377929719094614131458...

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INTERFACING [Legendary: Failure] - What if you broke the radiocomputer? What if it's never going to stop?!

Just let the numbers wash over you.

Please stop.

MAINFRAME - 32667332379617716965698582785832300505265883502247868050648201444570593197343382923860072601696510903258980909912837652275381493529845099414966933862815568031306981064525192703818515872648691762563239441425216118427769145067718411735714396681005615483952443154944864238384298900399826113322468963346522104692545137969276009719645338955332105584245640187448611050959111766828942711640054010503770420346052521318228045892998637903572350665108782350043349942391285236308896510989246641056331584171142885304143772286629832318970869030400301325951476774237516158840915838059151673504519131178193943428482922272304061422582078027829148070426761629302539228321084917759984200595105312164731818409493139800444072847325902609169730998153853939031280878823902948001579008000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000... and that's it.

Okay, so that's what did them in?

MAINFRAME - Well, yeah. That, and the catastrophic data loss.

The what now?

This must be the anomaly Soona mentioned in the church log.

MAINFRAME - On the nature of the data loss, there's ominously little information in the production log. It comes at the very end, where things get fuzzy and dark, where tables and numbers seem to vanish into an eerie nothingness, before their Igaunijan investor pulled the plug...

What is clear is that one day an unidentified numeric anomaly occurred on the East-Insulindian Lintel front, just as the 'Wirrâl Untethered' project was being compiled that day.

And the anomaly caused all the data to get lost in the air?

I didn't understand a word of that.

MAINFRAME - When the project was returned, it was completely blank.

The team spent weeks on the phone with Lintel, the service provider, but despite their diagnostics they could never produce a satisfactory explanation or pay for the loss.

What! They lost the whole game and wouldn't even pay for it?

Wasn't there a copy of the game, a *backup*?

MAINFRAME - Always read the terms of service.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - And let's face it, they didn't have any money left for a legal action.

Wasn't there a copy of the game, a *backup*?

MAINFRAME - Mysteriously enough, it seems that the off-site copy happened to be *on-site* when the catastrophic data loss occurred...

It was the lead programmer's responsibility to oversee weekly maintenance of the off-site copy and, well, keep it off-site. An explanatory note from the lead programmer has been attached.

What does it say?

MAINFRAME - S. Luukanen-Kilde, the lead programmer of Fortress Accident: "The off-site copy was on-site because there was no *off-site* anymore, not for me, not after eight months of crunch."

"I didn't have a home anymore, so I started keeping it in the basement, in the ice bear refrigerator (near where I went to sleep). It was perfectly safe there, the temperature conditions were *optimal*."

It's not very convincing, is it?

Seems like a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Is there anything else from this lead programmer? (Proceed.)

MAINFRAME - That's not what her colleagues thought.

Is there anything else from this lead programmer? (Proceed.)

MAINFRAME - The production schedule ends with a few random notes that seem to be added sometime later.

4. Read the notes at the end.

MAINFRAME - Four months later by an unknown author: "I am the only one left and it's gotten rather damp here. A few other businesses have gone under too. Slipstream switched to making skis and the hairdressers just left, cursing Martinaise. They're right, though, something's seriously wrong with this place. Martinaise, all of it."

"Still haven't gotten an answer from Lintel about what happened. All I could get were the physical coordinates of the error on the East-Insulindian front on that day. Since the computation happened on-air, I reckoned it had to coincide with an actually existing location..."

"I have compared the coordinates to a map of Revachol West. Turns out it's only 800 metres from here. The address is Saint-Brune 1147. I am going there to look this thing in the eye..."

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Success] - Saint-Brune 1147? That's what the street sign next to the church said...

5. Tear off the printout and throw it away.

MAINFRAME - Tiles on the cube are still smouldering, casting the framework in a soft glow. Virescent PLAY and PRINT keys shine on the keyboard.

2. Remove THE PRODUCTION SCHEDULE.

MAINFRAME - The filament slides out of its glowing nest.

5. [Leave.]

[senorablack]

K BUT HEAR ME OUT

The gates are closed. But the paranoia lingers. The party's older crew take turns scouting prior areas of entry (lovers lake, mirkwood, lab, eddie's trailer, the crossroads and etc ). Steve and Eddie are watch partners. Hawkin's lab is on their roster this week.

The lab is abandoned. Covered in dust and blood and shrapnel. They take their time searching each room. A sound catches them off guard when they reach the last hall. At the end there is no door but there is an unmistakable sound of electricity firing up. But that can't be right. The entire compound was stripped of its contents and power sources after the raid. This sound definitely wasn't there when Jon and Nance came by last week or they would have reported it.

"Guessing you never heard about what happen to the cat?" Eddie whispers as Steve feels out the wall.

"Shhh." Steve says, feeling for a crevice or a hint of air or light or some indentation that might indicate a lever or latch or button. Steve does not find one on the wall.

But the his foot catches. On a rubber mat. They hadn't even notice the change of texture. Having been transversing over debris the entire time. Steve falls to the floor. Pulls back the mat. Underneath is a titanium door and with two hinges. Steve pulls it open despite Eddie's mutter expletives.

The door makes no sound as it opens up, but it does increase the sound of unmoored electricity. It's dark down there save a tiny glow of sparks firing off. There is metal stairs. And Steve starts to descend.

"It killed the cat, Harrington." Eddie calls after him and waits until Steve's more hair than body. He paces once, rolls his shoulders back twice, and on breath three he follows. There is loose and cut wire flailing and hazardous on the stairs. And they follow it in round until they reach concrete floor.

The room is in much greater shape then the rest of the compound. Everything above seems to be a portrait of work interrupted when hell opened up. A tool left out. A bottle of sterilizing solution uncapped. A coke can popped opened. This placed looked cared after. Steve and Eddie share a frown. And finally. FINALLY. Steve gets on his level.

"I don't got a good feeling about this." Steve mumbles.

"Yeah? What gave it away? Was it the secret trap door or the live wire we had to avoid on the way down?"

They scan the room and find a machine hidden behind a glass door.

"And what's your feeling on this, huh?" Eddie says with wild eyes and waving towards the machine.

It looked like a electric chair. In tandem. There were two seats. Leather buckles for a pair of arms and legs each. A dome that hung on a hinge that Eddie suspected was for the head.

"Shut up." Steve sighs.

Eddie walks over to the chamber and a panel reveals itself from a grey box affixed to the glass as soon as he is a foot away. Or something like a panel. More like three buttons and a switch.

"What do you think would happen if I hit the one that says open?"

"Don't even think about it."

But Eddie was laughing and he's always laughed with his body, and not meaning to AT ALL, well, his arm hit it anyway. The glass door slid open like automatic doors to a grocery.

"Jesus--are you--Eddie! Are you serious right now?"

"I didn't mean to." Eddie softly.

"What do you think it does?" Steve asked softer. They both shuffled forward, stepping into the glass case, circling the chairs.

"Not sure I want to stick around to find out." Eddie frowns.

"Yeah, definitely not." Steve nods. "Let's get the hell out of here."

That's when the glass doors shut. A high beam of light. Rainbow of colors. One second passes. Feeling like a plane lifting off. Another and a feeling of nausea. Eddie wakes up next to Steve on the concrete floor. The light is gone. The glass doors are open.

Only.

They lie next to one of their flashlights. And it's five times their size.

Cue the guys trying to get back to the rest of the party for help-- traveling for what feels like months through microcosms of forest and suburb, meeting bugs and critters that help them, learning about each other's bravery-- so they can restore them back to their natural state.

[pokemoncaretips]

manetric and electrike?

General notes: A trickier pokemon than most people think, the electrike line needs a lot of work and set up before it can be kept safely.

General care: So the biggest thing to be aware of with this line is the constant storing and release of static discharges. Every. Single. Electronic. In your house must be surge proofed. Rubber matting on the floor is essential. And I really don't recommend metal cutlery unless you like random shocks if it nudges you while you eat. As well, you'll need to look at fire proofing. These pokemon release a lot of sparks at the slightest touch, and on hot dry days this can be dangerous. Manectric also seem to attract lightning. On that note, lightning rods on your house are a pretty good idea.

Needless to say, these are high energy pokemon who need a lot of exercise. They come from wide open plains and need a lot of room to run. You'll need to devote at least an hour or two every day to heavy exercise. Care rating: Red

Training: Despite the difficulty in caring for them, this line is actually fairly easy to train. They're smart and enthusiastic, and have a lot of energy to pour into training.

You can't really train them out of discharging electricity, so scolding them for shocking you is pointless and distressing for them. It's something you'll have to learn to live with. Training rating: Green

Safety: The standard warning for people with heart conditions applies here, but with their tendency to start small fires on top of that, these really are pokemon for experts only. Safety rating: Red

Overall ranking. A pleasant and energetic pokemon for those with a good constitution and a fireproof house.

[maytheoddshq]

Nano. District Three. Score: SEVEN.

"Nano, from Three."

Nano had made a list of things he'd rather be doing than this bullshit: perfecting his death rattle (again, he was so close to capturing that fantastic guttural quality), spending an endless purgatory-like eternity on a factory line in Three, plucking his own eyes out with a soup spoon. He was only in this room because the Peacekeepers had escorted him here. Nano wished he'd played dead when they did, but that would have scared Link and Electra, so he'd just complained the whole walk down instead. The doors had shut behind him, the locking mechanism clicking into place, sealing him in before the silent sea of Gamemakers above.

And what was his skill? There wasn't exactly a coding option in the arena, nor did he have the time to construct anything technological significant in ten minutes. He'd swung a sword around with Conny a few times, learned which berries wouldn't kill him (because it was more entertaining if he was brutally murdered by another child than if he accidentally ate a forbidden blueberry), but none of it was particularly sensational. So Nano decided that his best skill would be showing them just how quickly he could leave. Their technology was advanced, security top-tier, but it was made by people by Nano. He would dismiss his damn self; he would show them exactly how he planned to.

Walking over the weapons rack, he pulled a thin dagger free. But instead of wielding it at a target, he brought it back toward the automated doors, using the tip against the scanner nearby. He unscrewed the covering, then he wedged the blade beneath the plastic, prying up until it cracked off. The equipment's flesh beneath -- a nervous system of colored wires tangled together -- felt alive, like he had just carved open a chest to reach a beating heart. Nano pulled the contents loose, studying the connections to decide which to tug free from their electrical circuits. When two were chosen, he strung the first live wire out and pulled it across to encounter another. He was careful to keep his fingers on the Kynar, reluctant to barbecue himself before the Bloodbath, though the idea did amuse him. The two wires sparked as they connected, and the panel smoked and sputtered: short circuiting it entirely.

The training center doors glitched, sensors decommissioning, causing the locking mechanism to fail. The entryway flickered and died, until it was just metal, able to be pulled apart. The doors opened easily with his hands, and he stepped through the threshold into the hallway, turning to offer a melodramatic, satirical salute. "Once again, Nano, from Three."

The he turned, fully intending to resume his list of things he'd rather be doing than this bullshit: eating one of everything from the cafeteria, counting every window in the tower twice, being stabbed to death by the girl from Two. But there were still several minutes left on the clock, and he could hear his mentors now, aghast that he had walked out, even more upset that he had done so without showing any physical strength.

"Actually," he held up a waiting finger as he backtracked, begging the spectators above to please hold. Nano reappeared in the training center, jogging across the mat back toward the weapons rack. He plucked the axe from its mount, testing the weight and feel as he grasped it with both hands. It was heavier than anything he would usually try, but that was good; it meant it was more likely to work.

Nano gave himself a hearty practice swing, feeling it out, but he startled when the blade collided with a practice dummy, sticking into its torso between the sculpted rubber swells of two ribs. He swallowed, tugging the weapon free, stumbling back from the effort it took to dislodge and reclaim it. He looked back at the Gamemakers, pointing at the rubber carcass. "Maybe he'll get a sponsorship," Nano suggested, deadpan in his sarcasm. "Some salve will fix that right up."

He turned back to his task, resting the axe against his chest and shoulder as he proceeded to his final target. There, at the far end on the wall, Nano narrowed in on the electrical panel. His feet spread, stance widening as he attempted to stabilize himself in front of it. The axe bounced in both hands, and he pushed short, quick breaths between his lips, hyping himself up. Honestly, this wasn't even the weapon he'd choose in the arena if it came down to it, but it didn't need to be pretty. It just needed to work. So Nano lifted the axe, swing it around and down on the side of the panel. The sound of steel on metal rang and reverberated, and Nano huffed in exertion, frowning at the lock still hanging there, in tact. He cleared his throat, shifting his stance to better align his hips like he'd seen the tributes from Seven do. Then he lifted the axe again, sucking in air before pushing it out as the steel swung down, bashing into the lock. Repeating, he lifted and swung. Over and over, a half a dozen times, until the side of the panel was dented and the paint had been scraped and chipped away. But he was grinning. It had worked. The lock was dangling there, cracked through, and Nano dropped the axe with a dull thud, moving to yank the mauled thing from the box.

It hadn't been particularly graceful -- no, it had felt distinctly Kubrickian -- but Nano had impressed himself. "Now just imagine that's a twelve-year-old or something," he pushed the hair from his face, stepping closer to the panel, swinging the door open to reveal the precious contents: the main breaker, a slew of circuit breakers and handful of bus bars. The entire training center was hooked up to this thing, the voltage capacity greater than anything Nano had been able to manage before. If he'd had more time, he would have removed the panel's face and had some real fun with the wiring. But there were only a few seconds left, so he'd have to save any further scheming for another day.

"It's important to be eco-conscious in our current climate," Nano explained matter-of-factly, "Kids are on free game, but the planet? Well, there's only one of those."

Then he flipped every switch in the panel, and the whole center -- every machine, every overhead light, the sponsor booth where the Gamemaker's stood, even the ten-minute timer -- went dark. There was no alarm to signal the end of his session, only the patter of his footsteps across the mat as he slipped out through the training center doors to rejoin the rest of Three.

[duratufproducts1]

The Importance of Electrical Insulation Matting for Safety

Electrical Insulation Matting plays a crucial role in maintaining safety in areas where electrical equipment is present. These electrical insulation rubber mat serve as a protective layer, effectively preventing electric shocks and grounding complications. It is imperative to install high-quality insulation matting in settings such as factories, workshops, or electrical rooms to protect both personnel and equipment.

[raahgroupinc123]

Shock-Proof Your Workspace: The Importance of Electrical Mats in Workplace Safety

In workplaces where electrical equipment and machinery are prevalent, ensuring the safety of workers is paramount. Electrical mats, also known as insulating mats or switchboard mats, play a crucial role in creating a safe working environment by providing insulation against electrical hazards. Let's explore the significance of electrical mats in enhancing workplace safety and the key benefits they offer. 

Understanding Electrical Mats 

Electrical mats are specially designed mats made from electrically insulating materials such as rubber or synthetic polymers. These mats are placed on the floor in areas where electrical equipment is present to provide insulation against electric shock and protect workers from the risks associated with accidental contact with energized conductors or equipment. Electrical mats are engineered to meet stringent safety standards and regulations, ensuring maximum protection for workers in hazardous environments. 

Key Benefits of Electrical Mats 

Electrical Insulation: The primary benefit of electrical mats is their ability to provide insulation against electrical hazards. By placing these mats on the floor, workers are provided with a protective barrier between themselves and the ground, reducing the risk of electric shock in the event of accidental contact with live electrical equipment or conductors. 

Slip Resistance: Electrical mats are designed to provide slip resistance, helping to prevent slips, trips, and falls in the workplace. The textured surface of these mats enhances traction, even in wet or oily conditions, reducing the risk of accidents and injuries caused by slips and falls. 

Durability and Longevity: Electrical mats are built to withstand the rigors of daily use in demanding work environments. Constructed from high-quality, durable materials, these mats offer excellent resistance to wear, tear, and chemical exposure, ensuring long-term performance and reliability. 

Customization Options: Electrical mats are available in a variety of sizes, thicknesses, and colors to suit different workplace requirements and hazard levels. They can be customized to fit specific areas and applications, ensuring optimal coverage and protection in areas where electrical hazards are present. 

Applications in Workplace Safety 

Electrical mats find applications in a wide range of industries and workplaces where workers are exposed to electrical hazards. From electrical substations and switchgear rooms to control rooms and equipment maintenance areas, these mats are essential for protecting workers from the risks associated with electrical shock. By providing workers with the necessary PPE, employers can create a safer work environment and reduce the likelihood of accidents and injuries. 

Conclusion 

In environments where electrical hazards are present, investing in electrical mats is essential to ensure the safety of workers and compliance with safety regulations. These specialized mats provide workers with the protection they need to safely perform tasks in potentially hazardous electrical environments, reducing the risk of injuries and accidents. By prioritizing electrical safety and equipping their workforce with electrical mats, employers can create a safer and more productive workplace for their employees. 

To learn more about electrical mats and their importance in workplace safety, visit NewETraders.com. Invest in quality PPE and prioritize the safety of your workforce. 

[insulatingmats]

Superior 11 kV Electrical Room Rubber Mat An Essential Safety

With our superior 11 kV Electrical Room Rubber Mat, you can be sure that your electrical setup is safe. These electrical mats guard against electrical risks in high-voltage areas by providing sturdy insulation. Our 11kv rubber mats are perfect for industrial environments such as control rooms and substations, as they meet IS 15652 criteria, guaranteeing optimal protection and longevity. Invest in the reliable rubber matting solutions from Duratuf to protect your staff and equipment now.

[groundluxe]

Earthing for Stress Relief: Does It Work? Science & Tips

In my journey to uncover natural stress relief methods, I've stumbled upon a fascinating concept: earthing. Also known as grounding, it's the practice of connecting with the earth's electrical energy by walking barefoot outdoors or using grounding equipment. Intrigued by the simplicity of this method, I've delved into research and personal experimentation to answer a burning question: Does earthing truly reduce stress?

From the lush green parks to the comfort of my own living room with a grounding mat, I've explored various facets of earthing. The idea that simply touching the earth could have a profound impact on our well-being is both intriguing and somewhat mystical. Join me as I share insights from scientific studies and personal anecdotes, shedding light on whether earthing is the stress-busting solution we've been searching for.

Understanding Earthing and Its Principles

Building on my exploration of earthing as a potential stress-relief solution, I found it essential to dive deeper into the principles that underpin earthing and how it operates. Earthing, fundamentally, involves direct contact with the earth's surface, allowing the transfer of electrons from the ground into the body. This process posits a natural and profound impact on our physiological state, which, in turn, could influence our stress levels.

The core principle of earthing lies in its ability to equalize the electric potential between our bodies and the earth. Scientifically, the earth maintains a negative electrical potential on its surface. When you make direct contact with the ground, say through barefoot walking on grass, sand, or soil, your body becomes infused with these negative ions, theoretically creating a stable internal bioelectrical environment.

This concept isn't new but rooted in ancient practices that recognize the holistic connection between humans and the earth. Modern lifestyles, however, have significantly reduced our direct contact with the earth, primarily due to the prevalence of insulating materials like rubber and plastic in footwear and living environments. Such disconnection, some researchers argue, could be contributing to increased stress and inflammation, among other health issues.

The grounding hypothesis suggests that reconnecting with the earth's surface can counterbalance this effect, potentially reducing stress, inflammation, and improving sleep. My journey led me to several studies indicating that earthing might improve blood flow, decrease cortisol levels (a stress hormone), and enhance parasympathetic nervous system activity, which promotes relaxation and healing.

Moreover, the practice of earthing aligns with the body's natural processes. By tapping into the earth's inherent electrical energy, earthing may aid in reestablishing our biological rhythms, contributing to physical and emotional well-being. This exploration underscores a fascinating intersection between ancient wisdom and modern science, hinting at the extensive benefits earthing might hold for stress relief.

Exploring the Connection Between Earthing and Stress Reduction

Building on the grounding hypothesis and the potential physiological benefits of earthing, I delve deeper into how this practice might specifically aid in stress reduction. The fascinating interplay between the earth's electrical energy and our body's systems offers a unique perspective on managing stress.

Firstly, earthing impacts the body's inflammatory response. Research indicates that when our skin comes in direct contact with the earth, it receives a charge of energy that functions as antioxidants, which help reduce inflammation. Inflammation is linked with stress, and by lowering it, earthing can indirectly reduce stress levels.

Secondly, the practice influences cortisol levels. Cortisol is often called the "stress hormone" because it's directly related to our stress responses. Earthing has been shown to normalize cortisol patterns, which in turn, stabilizes the body's stress response. For instance, a study found that nighttime grounding led to changes in cortisol levels that improved sleep, reduced pain, and stress.

Additionally, earthing affects the autonomic nervous system (ANS), which controls our stress and relaxation responses. By promoting a shift from the sympathetic (fight or flight) to the parasympathetic (rest and digest) nervous system, earthing enhances feelings of calmness and well-being. This is critical because an overactive sympathetic nervous system is associated with high stress levels.

Finally, improving sleep is another way earthing reduces stress. Poor sleep quality is both a cause and a symptom of high stress. By grounding ourselves, not only do we potentially improve our sleep patterns through the normalization of circadian rhythms, but we also mitigate the stress associated with sleep deprivation.

Through my research, I've found that integrating earthing into daily routines can be a simple yet effective strategy to combat stress. Whether it's walking barefoot on grass, using grounding mats, or any other forms of earthing, the benefits for stress reduction are grounded in both scientific research and ancient practices, reinforcing the connection between our well-being and the earth.

How to Practice Earthing

Integrating earthing into my daily routine has become a cornerstone of my approach to stress management, and it's surprisingly simple to get started. Here are practical ways I've found effective in harnessing the stress-reducing benefits of connecting with the earth's natural electric charge.

Barefoot Outdoor Walks: I make it a point to walk barefoot on natural surfaces like grass, sand, or soil. This direct contact with the earth allows electrons to flow into the body, promoting a natural state of equilibrium that can reduce stress. Just 30 minutes a day can make a significant difference.

Gardening Without Gloves: Engaging with the earth doesn’t get more literal than this. When I garden without gloves, I ensure that my skin touches the soil. This not only helps me connect with nature but also serves as an act of earthing, absorbing the earth’s electrons to aid in stress reduction.

Using Earthing Mats or Sheets: For those times when outdoor access is limited, I rely on earthing mat or sheet for bed. These products connect to the ground port of an electrical outlet or directly to the earth outside and mimic the electrical charge of the earth, providing a way to practice earthing indoors.

Swimming in Natural Bodies of Water: Whenever possible, I swim in lakes, oceans, or rivers. Water is a great conductor of the earth's electric charge, and submerging myself in it facilitates an effective form of earthing, enhancing my connection to the earth and helping to decrease cortisol levels.

Observing Regular Earthing Breaks: Between work and personal commitments, finding moments to connect with the earth can be a challenge. However, I schedule short earthing breaks throughout my day to stand or walk on the earth barefoot. Even brief periods of connection can contribute to reduced stress and overall well-being.

Implementing these practices has not only enriched my connection with nature but has substantively contributed to my stress management toolkit. Whether it’s a walk on the beach, a moment in the garden, or a swim in a lake, each act of earthing brings me closer to a state of balance and tranquility.

Reviewing the Evidence: Can Earthing Actually Reduce Stress?

Diving into the scientific underpinnings, I've sifted through numerous studies to understand if earthing genuinely diminishes stress. Remarkably, the evidence presents a compelling case. Research indicates that earthing significantly impacts physiological markers associated with stress. For instance, one study highlighted that earthing could reduce cortisol levels, the so-called stress hormone, thereby promoting a more regulated sleep cycle and improved stress response.

Similarly, other research findings suggest that earthing enhances blood circulation. Improved blood flow, as noted in a study contributes to reduced inflammation, a common physical manifestation of chronic stress. By decreasing inflammation, individuals may experience lesser physical stress symptoms, fostering an overall sense of wellness.

Coupling these insights with practical earthing methods, it's evident that the simple act of connecting with the earth's surface holds a myriad of benefits. Incorporating barefoot walks in nature, engaging in gardening, or opting for earthing mats indoors can act as a bridge to these health advantages. Each practice harnesses the earth's electrons to neutralize free radicals, which are often elevated during periods of stress.

Moreover, anecdotal evidence aligns with scientific findings, with many individuals reporting a noticeable decrease in stress levels and improved emotional well-being after adopting earthing practices regularly. The essence of earthing—reconnecting with nature—also aligns with broader wellness trends emphasizing the importance of nature in human health.

The evidence supports the claim that earthing can serve as an effective stress-reduction technique. While more research is needed to fully understand the breadth of its benefits, the current findings offer a solid foundation for considering earthing as a valuable addition to stress management strategies. By promoting better sleep, reducing cortisol levels, and enhancing blood circulation, earthing not only reconnects us with the natural world but also plays a crucial role in managing everyday stress.

Safety Considerations and Tips

While the benefits of earthing for stress reduction are promising, I know it's crucial to approach this practice with safety in mind. Considering the potential risks and ensuring a safe experience, there are several tips to keep in mind.

Checking the Environment

Inspect the Area: Before engaging in barefoot walks or other earthing activities, inspect the ground for sharp objects, harmful materials, or dangerous wildlife to prevent injuries.

Avoid Polluted Areas: It's essential to choose clean, unpolluted areas for earthing. Avoid places near heavy traffic or industrial zones where the soil might be contaminated.

Using Earthing Products Safely

Follow Instructions: When using earthing mats or sheets, ensure to follow the manufacturer's instructions carefully to avoid any electric risks.

Check for Frayed Wires: Regularly inspect any earthing products for wear and tear, such as frayed wires or damaged materials, to ensure they're safe to use.

Considering Health Conditions

Consult Healthcare Providers: If you have a health condition, especially those involving the heart or blood-thinning medications, consult a healthcare provider before starting earthing practices.

Monitor Your Body: Pay attention to how your body responds to earthing. If you experience any discomfort or adverse effects, consider modifying or stopping the practice.

Gradual Increase: Start with short periods of earthing and gradually increase the duration to prevent any potential discomfort or adverse reactions.

Balance is Key: While earthing can benefit stress reduction, it's essential to balance this practice with other health and wellness activities.

I believe that by following these safety considerations and tips, individuals can enjoy the stress reduction benefits of earthing while minimizing potential risks. As always, prioritizing safety ensures that this natural practice contributes positively to well-being and health.

Conclusion

I've explored the fascinating world of earthing and its potential to act as a natural stress reliever. By reconnecting with the earth, we tap into a source of healing that's been under our feet all along. The scientific backing for earthing's benefits, from lowering cortisol levels to improving sleep, is compelling. It's clear that integrating earthing practices into our daily routine, whether through a barefoot walk in the park or using an earthing mat, can be a simple yet effective way to combat stress. Remembering to approach earthing with safety in mind ensures we can enjoy its full benefits without unintended consequences. As we strive for a balanced lifestyle, incorporating earthing seems like a step in the right direction towards enhancing our well-being.

[equalonline]

Common Mistakes Everyone Makes With Aluminium Ladder

Aluminum ladder is an indispensable item in our homes, nowadays. It helps you to get an item on top, change the bulb, repair the curtain, or put something on the floor causing difficulty, which saves a lot of time and effort. Therefore, the aluminum ladder is a lightweight item, it allows positioning in many forms, such as double, straightening, bending, etc. in accordance with our various purposes.

If you frequently face such difficulties as expressed above, or, even some completely different issues that need the utilization of a ladder, don’t hesitate to get one. These ladders don’t take up an excessive amount of space nor are they bulky and a burden. Contrary to several people’s beliefs they're really quite handy.

We should check up on features like safety measures, steppers size, rubber matting, and quality standards as OSHA, number of steps, weight capability, area it uses, and sturdiness and certify the ladder is compatible along with your activities.

Every year, there are several emergency room-treated injuries caused by falls from ladders, according to the   WHO. And you don’t have to rumble far to get hurt, most of the falls are from a height of 10 feet or less.

Still, aluminum ladders are essential DIY tools for so many projects and tasks, from painting your space and cleaning gutters to hanging decorative items. So don’t become static, stay safe by steering clear of the accident including the mistake you make using a ladder.

Choosing The Wrong Type

Aluminum ladder safety starts with the structure itself. Ladders come in different types, weight capacities, and materials. Choosing one that is not suitable for your work can lead to a severe injury, for example, a low-capacity step stool instead of a higher capacity frame ladder to replace a curtain or an aluminum model near electrical lines where a non-conductive fiberglass ladder should be used. You must consider the project, environment, and weight of the material you will carry while on the ladder and choose the best ladder for the work.

The Height Factor

Generally, a step stool or a step ladder is ideal for indoor projects requiring a lift of two to eight feet. Whereas a scaffolding ladder is articulated for outdoor projects requiring a boost of 14 feet or more. But every type of ladder varies in height and selecting a ladder that’s too short or tall for your height can tempt you to stand on tiptoes or bend down for the work area, which could make the ladder unstable and cause a fall. Whenever you buy a ladder, remember that a six-foot person can only reach four feet higher than the ladder height. So you need a five-foot ladder to reach a surface nine feet above the ground.

Uneven or Smooth Surface

Think twice before setting up your ladder on a smooth or uneven surface like a bed, a freshly waxed floor, or a wet driveway. The feet at the ladder base could move as you shift your weight around the rungs, causing the ladder to slide out from your reach. For maximum ladder safety, set up it on a solid, level, and non-slippy surface that allows all the feet of the ladder to make contact with the ground or floor.

Leaving the Locking Device Unlocked

There is no need to lock your ladder for a quick wall décor hanging, right? Wrong! If you leave your ladder lock unlocked, there is a possibility the front and rear of the ladder could close in on itself, jerking you forward or backward. To ensure that your ladder stays open, engage the locking mechanism before you step up.

Using Extension Ladder Too Close To The Wall

Unlike a step or frame ladder, which does not have any supporting structure to stay upright, the extension ladder must lean against a structure like a wall and then be secured to upper support before using it. But the angle between the ladder base and the wall should not be too steep as the ladder could tilt backward as you climb up.

Fails To Maintain Less than Three Points of Contact

Many of the users step up on the ladder with both hands full of tools, only to throw off balance and potentially fall down. Whether you are climbing up, down, or standing on a ladder, always maintain three points of contact—two-hand one foot or two feet, and one hand to keep you balanced.

Leaning Too Far Away From The Ladder

This is the most common reason for falling down. As we try to do work out of our reach. You positioned your ladder a little too far to the left or right of the intended working area and now you are stretching your arm or leaning your body beyond the ladder to reach it. This can be a bad move! Overreaching while being on a ladder can tip it over and send you crashing. While standing on a ladder, position yourself with the buckle of your belt between the steps. If you can’t reach your targeted area from that position, don’t stretch yourself; come down and reposition the steps to maintain ladder safety.

Standing on the Top Step

Every ladder should be labeled with the highest safe standing level; stepping above that rung makes the ladder unstable and increases the chances of falling down. In general, avoid standing on the uppermost platform of the ladder or the two steps below it to keep your center of gravity lower and maintain higher stability. If you can’t comfortably reach the desired working area, you need a taller ladder.

Bringing Someone To Help

If you bring someone to help or to get tools, the ladder is likely to buckle and throw one or both of you backward. Except for two-sided ladders, those are designed to support two people, one on the front and the other on the rear set of rungs, otherwise, there should only be one person on a ladder at a time.

Keeping Loose Tools On Rungs

As convenient as it may seem to stash spanner, hammer, paintbrush can on the rung above you, one wrong move can land you on the floor or if these tools are kept above your head could land on top of you, delivering a blow to the head.

If your ladder doesn’t have a tool tray or a tool belt, a hoist is used to lift things up a ladder.

Leaving a Nearby Door Unlocked

When a door opens, a ladder nearby will close or tip over and send the person thereon flying. It’s best to avoid putting in place ladders close to doorways if you want to position your ladder close to a door, lock it and either place up a sign warning others to not use it or have a helper guard it so that nobody will open the and unwittingly knock down the ladder.

Using Extensible Tools

A telescoping paint roller or an extendable duster can cause a nasty spill if it catches on one of the rungs, jostles the ladder, and causes you to lose your footing and fall. Protracted tools that also need heaps of leverage, like a lever, are even more threatening to balance. Avoid using tools with extension poles once atop a ladder; with the correct ladder height and proper placement close to the workspace, you won’t want the accessorial reach of those tools.

Walking Underneath

Forget those bad luck superstitions! Walking underneath a ladder that’s being used exposes you to potential fallen objects, or you can inadvertently shift the ladder and force whoever’s atop it to take a dive. Always skirt an open ladder to protect yourself and the person using it.

If you are looking for a brand that can provide you highly safe ladders to use, EQUAL is one of them. They are considered as the best choice for online purchases. 

Some Common Types of Ladder to Buy

There are a lot of uses for an aluminium ladder than simply changing light bulbs, which results in there being quite a few differing kinds of ladders when you take design, purpose, and materials into consideration. We embarked on all the categories of ladders below.

Step Ladder

A step Ladder or household ladder is the most common type of ladder, it is the most popular one because of its simple design and easy usability. These ladders are self-supporting, so you can take them where you need them. It consists of two sets of rungs that are evenly spaced with a top step that connects the two together.

You can either use one or both sides for climbing up or down, depending on the design. However, you can find models where you can only use one side. These are known as simple front step ladders. The other side is just for support.

There is a spreader that defines the limit of how far each can move out from the center. It keeps you safe when you’re stepping onto it. The bottom portion of the ladder is known as the feet or shoes. They are typically made of anti-skid material.

Extension Ladder

The limitation of the household step ladder is height before the weight becomes an issue. That’s the reason why the extension ladder comes into play. It can reach greater heights which makes it an excellent product to use outdoors where you have to reach a certain height that cannot be obtained by a step ladder easily. A telescopic ladder could be a variation on this theme with the flexibility to increase the height you wish to reach. It consists of a base and flies. The former stays on the bottom. The latter is the part that you use to extend your reach.

Unlike the step ladder, this kind isn't independent. You’ll get to lean it against something to keep it stable. The fly can slide upward by hooks or a rope and pulley-block system. It also has the protection features of non-skid feet and even another set of hooks on top to secure its position.

Multipurpose Ladder

The multipurpose ladder combines the features of the step ladder and an extension ladder increasing its versatility. It can be self-supporting or can also lean against something stable if required. It can even stand like scaffolding depending on the project requirement. It can be a smart choice for the contractor or the person who has to work alone and versatility with ladder height. 

Articulated Ladder

The articulated ladder is another type of portable ladder that can change its shape according to a project or job. It is easy to transport because of its design structure. This type of ladder contains a series of locking hinges to keep them in place. Because of this factor, they have a limited range of height. However, they are amazingly versatile which makes them worth buying.

Telescopic Ladder

The telescopic ladder is the most modern type of ladder in this segment and my favorite too. Its design and easy usability make it unique from others. The features people like about it are its easy portability and lightweight. So, you can carry it anywhere with extreme ease and comfort. 

[greendalerubber]

6 Reasons for Investing in Rubber Matting Online in Netherlands

Rubber flooring has gained significant popularity in recent years and can now be seen in a variety of different places. Already common in fitness centers, fieldhouses, and weight rooms, this flooring is finding increasing use in residential and commercial settings as well. If you want to buy rubber matting online in Netherlands know that it has many advantages over other flooring options, including its resilience, durability, and low maintenance requirements. Rubber floors are underappreciated because of their high cost. Despite its higher initial cost compared to other flooring options, rubber flooring is a wonderful long-term investment because of its longevity and low maintenance requirements.

Remarkable Durability

Rubber flooring's obvious benefit is its longevity. It's a form of resilient flooring that holds up well and is easy to maintain, while also being sturdy and resilient. A rubber floor, depending on the tile used and the setting in which it is laid, can survive for 20 years or more with regular maintenance.

Significant Low maintenance

Cleaning and maintaining this flooring only requires water and a light detergent. Rubber should be protected from aggressive cleaning solvents.

Noise-free Floors

Rubber flooring online in Netherlands is exceptionally silent because of its flexibility. The natural suppleness of the rubber actually dampens sound by as much as 20 decibels. Rubber flooring is resilient, but it's also comfortable to walk on and resistant to moisture. When people have to stand for long amounts of time, rubber flooring is a terrific option. The increased padding provided by these floors makes them preferable to other flooring options for those looking to minimize injuries and wear and tear. Rubber floors are comfortable to stand on and help prevent foot injuries. Static electricity is not generated, either.

Sustainability

Rubber is a naturally occurring and easily replenished basic material. The product is made from rubber tree sap that has been harvested in a way that does not inhibit the tree's development. Rubber has many uses, is easily recycled, and may be reused indefinitely. Pieces of recycled rubber are utilized as mulch, on playground surfaces, and in the manufacturing of other goods. Hence, if you are getting rubber matting online in Netherlands know that you are investing in a sustainable product.

Notable Slip Resistance

Rubber flooring is extremely slip-resistant, often exceeding the required minimum "coefficient of friction." Rubber floors are popular in fitness centers because of this, and their great slip resistance also makes them suitable for use in hospitals and nursing homes.

Rubber flooring online in Netherlands, in contrast to other varieties, improves slip resistance when wet. Spills, perspiration, and condensation water do not pose a threat to safety. Because of this, rubber flooring is also an excellent choice for an outdoor gym.

Convenient Installation

Rubber flooring's ease of installation is a big plus. Rubber mats, rubber rolls, and rubber floor tiles can all be laid down at a fitness center in a single day.

Rubber floor tiles are heavy enough that no adhesive is needed for installation; they are simply put together like a giant puzzle. Rolls of rubber flooring are easy to install because they just need to be rolled out.

To make your investment right, connect with professional and reputable suppliers when you search for Rubber matting online in Netherlands. The better the quality, the more profitable it is in the long run. All the best!

[go-accurateweighingscalesug-blog]

Electric baby weighing scales of up to 20kg weight capacity prices

Accurate Weighing Scales’ Baby and Toddler Scale

 Versatile and portable, the baby scale offers excellent value for pediatricians and other healthcare providers. With a capacity of 44lb/20kg, this scale boasts the ability to weigh both newborn infants and toddlers on the same instrument. The baby scale features quick start-up and easy operation, so minimal training is needed.

A cleverly designed ergonomic cradle provides comfortable support for babies and locks securely in place. The cradle removes easily to reveal a non-slip rubber mat underneath, simplifying the task of weighing toddlers.

Suitable for maternity wards, doctors’ offices and pediatricians.

Baby scales from Accurate weighing Scales

 Babies who feel safe and secure are easier to weigh.

Baby scales by Accurate Weighing Scales make weighing fast and comfortable, thanks to the skin-friendly materials that immediately take on and radiate body warmth, shapes that make the baby feel safe and intelligent functions that shorten the weighing process.

Accurate baby scales

At Accurate Weighing Scales, we offer the full line of Health-o-meter, Seca, Myweigh, Siltec and Weigh South Infant Scales and most are in stock for immediate delivery. Huge discount prices for the pediatric scales that calculates milk consumption in grams, to home use baby scale for the consumer market.

 Additional applications include using baby scales for animal rehab centre and professional dog and cat breeders. They even work great for zoo in weighing turtles.

Thank you for allowing Accurate Weighing Scales (U) Ltd the privilege to serve you in advance.

For inquiries on deliveries contact us

 Office +256 705 577 823, +256 775 259 917

 Address: Wandegeya KCCA Market South Wing, 2nd Floor Room SSF 036

 Email:  weighingscales@countrywinggroup.com

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Electrical rubber mats must be installed correctly and workers must be instructed on how to use and maintain them before they can be used.